


bouquet transfer

by SebGray



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Background Relationships, Car Accidents, Car Chases, Crushes, Cults, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gender Dysphoria, Genderfluid Character, Infidelity, Intense, Kissing, M/M, Misgendering, Misogyny, Nonbinary Character, Police, Religion, Runaway Bride, Secret Crush, Sexism, Trans Female Character, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2020-10-06 21:30:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20513798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SebGray/pseuds/SebGray
Summary: Before Caleb was Caleb, Caleb was Brenda, and Brenda was stuck. Stuck in a bad relationship heading towards a bad future with bad people who will never accept him for who he is. But when a kind stranger gives him an out, he takes it.





	1. chapter one

A small group walked into Yasha and Zuala’s flower shop one summer day while Yasha was in the back making a bouquet for one of their regulars. There was a tall, older man, human, with an upturned nose and thinning grey hair; a tall half-elf man with long blond hair braided back; a shorter blonde woman with a pout who might’ve been a short human or a tall dwarf, or perhaps some combination of the two; and another human, a woman, tall and very thin, with long red hair and glasses and mousy features. Despite being taller than the other woman, she slouched so badly they weren’t that far apart. They all wore modest clothes, but they looked expensive. The half-elf man wrapped his arm around the red-haired woman possessively and said to Zuala, who was behind the counter, “Hello, miss. We were hoping to hire you as a florist for our wedding.” Of course they were, Yasha thought, and she spaced out while Zuala went over the details with them, looking up every so often to check in on them. The two men and the blonde woman spoke the most often, while the redhead, the bride, she assumed, was almost completely silent. The group all had Zemnian accents, and hers was the softest voice. Whenever she piped up to say something, she’d always be told off. “No, Brenda, that is not a good idea.” “No, Brenda, that isn’t going to work.” “No, Brenda, for the last time, we aren’t doing your stupid color scheme!” The last one shut her up for good, making her sniffle. 

Zuala noticed this, frowned, and started asking questions directed towards Brenda. “What do you think, Miss Brenda? Red roses or red carnations?” But the others always answered over her. When Zuala responded with, “I’m asking the bride, not you,” she got harsh responses. The old man said, “I am the one paying for this wedding, I get to decide.” The blonde woman scoffed and added, “She knows nothing about good taste anyway.” But the groom had the worst response out of the three of them. “She is going to be my wife, so she will have to listen to me.”

At this, Zuala said, “Maybe this flower shop isn’t the best fit for you, then.” She crossed her arms and glared at them with her dark eyes, but there was only so much intimidating you can do when you’re a short drow in a vintage pink dress. But that only made the other three throw an even bigger fit. After a minute of yelling, Yasha turned from the bouquet and stood next to her wife.

“Hey,” she said, eyes sharp, arms crossed, voice low and menacing. “How about you either let her listen to my wife or get out? We don’t have to serve you, and I’ll happily drag you all out of here.”

That shut them up pretty nicely. Brenda smiled at the two of them, obviously feeling a bit safer with them. Yasha stuck around, helping Zuala ask questions of the bride. Whenever someone spoke up against Brenda’s opinions, Zuala and Yasha’s glares shut them up pretty nicely. Finally, they finished up their arrangements and got to the logistics. The wedding was pretty far away, about an hour’s drive, which meant an upcharge for gas and cooling the flowers. The wedding was also ridiculously huge. Yasha gawked when the groom proudly said they were having five-hundred people there. No wonder the poor bride seemed absolutely terrified. Plus they were expecting centerpieces at every table and place settings at every seat. Zuala said, “That’s going to make your costs way higher. You sure you don’t want just the centerpieces?”

“No, we don’t mind the price,” said the old man. He seemed almost proud of the fact that they were going to spend a prohibitive amount of money on flowers alone.

“Okay then. When do you want them done by?” Zuala asked as she finished punching in the order.

“The wedding’s happening next month. August 17th.” The groom smiled as he spoke.

Zuala and Yasha’s eyes went wide. “That’s less than a month!” said Zuala. “We’ll have to add a rush fee on that.”

“We don’t mind,” said the old man once again. “We only want what’s best.”

By the Stormlord. At the very least, the order was going to set them up for the next few months. Zuala talked about a payment plan with the groom and the old man, as well as check-in dates in between then and now, so Yasha took that as her cue to step back. As she did, she caught the bride’s eye and smiled at her reassuringly. She wanted to tell the poor girl to run, get the fuck out of that trash heap of a family while she still could. But the girl couldn’t read minds and the last thing Yasha wanted was for her to say something that would get her hurt. All she could do was go back to her flowers.  
~~~~~  
“Sehanine above, this is a big fucking order,” mumbled Molly as they walked into the back room where the table was covered in bouquets and centerpieces.

“Yeah, and it’s a nightmare family,” said Zuala, scoffing as she tossed back her silver ponytail before getting back to work on the bride’s bouquet. “The people who came in were just fucking awful to the bride, groom included. He was a fucking sexist piece of trash. But Yasha made them shut up.”

“Why am I not surprised? Awful people have the hugest fucking orders.” Molly dropped their bag on the floor by the back door and sat down, getting to work. “Also, who the fuck chose this color scheme? It looks hideous.”

“I don’t fucking know,” said Zuala. “Not the bride, that’s for sure. She actually had good taste. Who the fuck puts burgundy, lavender, and aquamarine together? She wanted to go with yellow instead of burgundy and pale pink instead of aqua.”

“Ugh.” Molly scoffed and worked on one of the centerpieces, clever purple hands now used to putting them together.

The bell over the door rang. Molly said, “I’ll get it.” They got up and store over to the front. A blond half-elf and a redhaired woman stood in the front room. Molly gave them their award-winning smile and said, “How may I help you two?” as they leaned over the counter.

The half-elf seemed to want to be anywhere else but here, but the woman gave them a shy smile. “We are here to check up on an order for a wedding,” said the half-elf with a Zemnian accent.

“Ah, yes! The big order. Would you like to see some of the pieces?” Molly asked. “I can bring them to you?”

“Ja, please, hurry up. We need to get to our next appointment.” The half-elf pulled out his phone and texted someone with speedy thumbs.

“Okay, let me get you what we have so far.” Molly went to the back and grabbed the finished centerpieces and bouquets. “Here is the centerpiece for the bridal party’s table, and here are some of the bridesmaids’ bouquets. We’re still working on the rest.”

The half-elf sneered at what they had. “What is this? I thought I said I wanted roses instead of carnations!”

“Schatz, I asked for carnations,” said the redhead.

“Who asked you?”

“The two nice ladies. Remember?”

“Why the hell would they listen to you? I’m the one in charge here. I said I want roses. They should’ve put fucking roses on here!”

“The order says carnations, not roses. If you want roses, it might mean a change in price.” Molly tried to offer up a smile to the woman.

“Ugh, fine, go with whatever trash you want. I’m going to call Astrid. You take care of this flower business, seeing that they clearly value your opinion over mine!” And with that, the man stormed out of there.

Molly sighed at the guy, then turned to the woman. “Is he like that all the time?”

She nodded. “In fact, you’ve caught him on one of his better days.”

“Fucking hell. And you’re marrying him?” 

The woman shrugged. “I’ve known him for a long time. And I can’t back out now.”

“You can always back out,” said Molly.

“I really can’t. I’d have nowhere to go.” She looked down at the floor, clearly frustrated.

“You can always come to my place. I’ve got plenty of room.” Not entirely a lie. They could take the couch while she took the bed. “Here.” Molly pressed the “feed” button on the receipt printer and tore off a piece of paper, then grabbed a pen and slowly wrote their name and phone number. “Call me if you ever decide to ditch this asshat. I’ll help you get on your feet. Okay?”

With tears in her eyes, the woman nodded. “Okay.” She read the name, then started folding the paper up really small. “How do you pronounce your name?”

“Mollymauk Tealeaf. What’s your name?”

After a moment’s hesitation, the woman said, “Brenda. Brenda Ermendrud.” She hid the paper in her shoe and extended a hand to Molly.

Molly shook her hand. “It is very nice to meet you. Do feel free to call or text, alright?”

“I’ll try. My fiance and pastor check all my texts. No offense, but I don’t think they’d approve of me talking to you.”

“Well, fuck that. You need a friend in this world, I can tell. If they don’t like that, then fuck ‘em.”

Brenda laughed. “If only it were that easy.” She smiled sadly, said goodbye, then headed out again.

“Poor girl,” mumbled Molly to themselves as they gathered everything up and brought it all back.


	2. chapter two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SERIOUS TRIGGER WARNING FOR THIS CHAPTER.
> 
> Cults, toxic religion, emotional abuse, and threats of homelessness appear in this chapter. If this triggers you, please skip this chapter. A summary will appear in the end notes.
> 
> Next chapter should be okay.

Bren stood on the little stand in the back of the seamstresses as she worked on pinning the dress. Looking at herself in the mirror, she wanted to cry. The feeling was like this weird out of body experience, like she was detached from the sight of herself. And worse, she couldn't tell if it was the anxiety of the wedding or the fact that this all felt so wrong. The long hair, the pretty dress, the push-up bra...it was all so weird and strange. She didn't feel like herself. She didn't feel happy.

"Are you nervous?" The seamstress asked. She was a nice lady, elven, with long black hair and green eyes. 

"Ja." Bren nodded. It was nerves. Nothing more. It was because of the nerves that her hands shook as she stood there. Her nerves were why she was millimeters from crying.

"Well, you shouldn't be. You look gorgeous. You're gonna be the prettiest woman on the planet when you walk down the aisle. Everyone will have their eyes on you."

Oh, gods, the thought of that made her stomach turn all the more. Fuck, she didn't want that. She didn't want to be pretty. She didn't want everyone's eyes on her. She wanted to disappear.

One of the assistants poked their head in. They were a tiefling, like the person from the flower shop, only they were magenta rather than purple. "Hey, the maid of honor is here. Do you want her to come in?"

The idea of Astrid sneering at her made Bren want to throw up, but she just muttered a soft, "Ja, let her in."

Astrid strode in, then immediately groaned at the dress. In Zemnian, she said, "Fuck, you still chose that one?"

"I like it," mumbled Bren as she fiddled with the lace sleeves. It was feminine enough to appease everyone else, but it still kept her chest hidden.

"Ugh. Just because Pastor Ikithon says women have to be modest doesn't mean they have to hide everything. At least you're wearing the bra I gave you. Otherwise, you'd be a completely lost cause."

Bren said nothing. 

"I mean, look at you! You're all skin and bones. What man would want to fuck you? You look like you'd break the moment anyone touched you. The only thing you have going for you is your tits, and those won't last forever."

Astrid’s comments were bringing Bren closer to tears. Bren wrung her hands as she looked down at the floor. The seamstress fiddled with a flash of copper in her pocket. "Do you need me to ask her to leave?" a gentle voice said in Bren's mind.

"Nein, it is fine," Bren thought, even though the rest of her wanted to scream her desire to have Astrid sent away.

The seamstress seemed to not believe Bren. She turned to Astrid and told her, "I think it might be best if you left."

Oh, Gods. Astrid stood and Bren could hear her fuming without even looking at her. "Do you want to send me away? I'm the fucking maid of honor! I've been told by our pastor to make sure she doesn't get into trouble, especially with that tiefling around."

"What does Rosemund have to do with this?" the seamstress asked.

"Well, it wasn’t your tiefling, but Brenda has a history with other tieflings. Brenda's fiance told me himself. She flirted with a tiefling florist earlier today. He saw her take his phone number."

"I was not flirting with him. We were just talking. He saw that I was nervous." Bren's voice was strained with the effort of trying not to cry.

"Oh please. Why else would a man give you his phone number?"

"He said I needed a friend."

"Bullshit!"

"Hey!" exclaimed the seamstress. "If you aren't going to stop screaming, I suggest you leave. Now."

Astrid shut up and sat down on the little bench, pulling out her phone and texting someone. Probably Pastor Ikithon or Wulf. Oh, Gods. Bren wanted to dissolve.

A few minutes later, Bren's phone buzzed. The seamstress got up and handed it to her. "You have a call from your pastor?"

Fuck. Bren answered it. "Hallo, Pastor Ikithon."

In Zemnian, the Pastor began screaming at her so fast she could barely understand what he was saying. She heard, somewhere in there, accusations of her cheating on Wulf, trying to sabotage the wedding, heresy, and betraying the church. Towards the end, he asked, "Do you want to be thrown out on the streets where you belong?"

"No!" she whimpered, tears running down her face.

"Then beg for forgiveness!" he roared.

"I'm sorry! Please forgive me, Pastor Ikithon. I never should've disobeyed you!" Her whole body shook, to the point where the seamstress had to stop pinning the hem of Bren’s dress, and just looked up in confusion and concern.

"Fine. Only because of the wedding, I will forgive you. If you make any more mistakes, I am finished with you. Do you understand?"

Bren nodded. "Yes, thank you, Pastor Ikithon."

"Do not thank me. Show me your thanks through your devotion to my Word. Understood?"

"Yes, Pastor Ikithon."

"Good." Click. Bren turned off the phone call and tried to stop crying. She failed miserably.

The seamstress took her copper wire and cast Sending again. "Are you sure you don't want help? I can call the police."

"Please, no. I will get in worse trouble." Bren wanted to say yes, but her fear was so enormous that she could not, she would not.

With a sad frown, the seamstress continued her work.  
~~~~~  
Zuala was almost finished with the centerpieces, and about to move onto the arrangements for each seat when a call came in on her phone. She recognized the caller. Sylvette, the local seamstress. Sylvette never called except to gossip, and Zuala was bored out of her mind whenever Yasha and Molly were out, so she picked up the phone with a smile. "Hey, Sylvie. What's up?"

"Holy fuck, I think I might have to call the fucking police for a client." Sylvette's voice was concerned, almost scared.

"Wait, what?" Zuala dropped her flowers, took the phone where it was wedged between her shoulder and ear, and held it to her other ear in case she didn't hear right. "What?"

"This client came in for a wedding and she was super nervous. Then her maid of honor came in and tried insulting her in another language? I think it was Zemnian, but it might’ve been something else. Then the maid of honor accused the bride of flirting with tieflings in Common, so I threatened to kick her out, and she shut up. Then the bride's fucking pastor calls her and screams at her so loud I could hear it from the other end even though it wasn't on speakerphone. The poor girl started crying and I asked her if I should call the police and she said no, that would only make it worse."

"What?" Zuala's eyes were wide with shock.

"Yeah. After that, I finished fitting her and the maid of honor took her away once she had changed. And by 'took her away,' I mean she dragged her out by her wrist. The poor girl didn't even get a chance to talk to me about anything. It was fucking surreal. Should I call the police or not?"

Zuala paused for a second, then her eyes widened. "Wait a second. Was she tall, red-haired, super skinny?"

"Yeah. Her name was Brenda Ermendrud, the person paying for it is named Trent Ikithon. Why? Is she your client too?"

"Uh-huh. We just got a huge-ass order from them. Holy fuck. I knew they were assholes, but damn." Zuala paused before a realization dawned on her. "Wait. Wait, wait, wait. You said the maid of honor told you Brenda was flirting with a tiefling, right?"

"Yeah."

"I think she meant Molly."

"Wait. Mollymauk? I mean, they can be flirty, but they wouldn't hit up a bride-to-be, right?"

Zuala sighed. "I dunno. Let me call them."

"Alright. I'm gonna do some research into this Ikithon guy. According to what I overheard, he's her pastor? What kind of pastor pays for someone's wedding? It seems sketchy."

"Yeah, that sounds shady as fuck. Go right ahead. Call you back in a few."

"'Kay." Sylvette hung up.

With that, Zuala called Molly.

"Hey, Zu. What’s up?” asked Molly in a sleepy voice.

“Did you seriously just wake up?” Zuala was trying her best to glare at him through the phone.

“Maybe.”

“Okay, well, get the fuck up. We got a problem.”

Zuala could vaguely hear the sound of shifting in the background. “What’s going on?”

“Do you remember the red-haired Zemnian girl? The bride of the wedding with the huge fucking order and the shitty color scheme?”

“Oh, Brenda. Why? Shit, did something happen to her?” Molly’s voice was fully alert now.

“Kinda. She was at Sylvette’s a little bit ago and shit kind of blew up. But what I want to know before I tell you what happened. Did you flirt with Brenda?”

“No. No, of course not. I just gave her my number in case she needed someone to call for help. She seemed like she was headed for trouble. Why?”

“Well, apparently, Brenda’s maid of honor accused her of flirting with you,” said Zuala.

Molly groaned. “Fucking hell. For once, I give someone my phone number innocently, and now everyone thinks I’m fucking flirting.”

“Look, my dude, this girl can be in some seriously deep shit. Sylvette tried to get her maid of honor to stop insulting her, and then her pastor screamed at her over the phone and made her cry.”

“Fuck, Zu. Are you serious?”

“Yeah. Sylvette is considering calling the fucking police.”

After a moment, Molly replied, “I don’t think that’s a good idea. She’s being observed almost constantly. She said her fiance and her pastor read her texts. They probably look at her calls and shit too, and I’d be surprised if they let her out of their sight for long amounts of time. Even when I thought her fiance wasn’t watching us, he still must’ve seen me give her my number. She hid the paper I wrote it on as soon as she got it. If we call the police, that might tip them off, and I’d hate to think what would happen to her if they were cornered.”

“Shit, you’re right. I’ll tell Sylvette. Thanks, Molls.”

“No prob, Zu. Good luck.”

Zuala tapped the “end call” button, and then she called Sylvette back.

“So what’d he say?” asked Sylvette, mouth full of something crunchy.

“What the fuck are you eating?”

“Chips,” said Sylvette before swallowing. “Listen, you know I gotta keep my mouth busy when I research shit I hate. I mean, do you want me to swear up a storm in the middle of my goddamn shop?”

“You already do that anyway.”

“Shit, you’re right. Well, I looked up Pastor Trent Ikithon and guess what the fuck I found? Cult shit!”

“Cult shit?” Zuala furrowed her brow.

“Yep. A whole mess of it. Trent Ikithon is the leader of this ‘church’,” Zuala could hear the air quotes over the phone, “called the Cerberus Assembly? It originated in the Zemni Fields almost ten years ago but moved to a location about an hour from here. I checked out their website and it looks kinda normal? But then I looked at people talking about it and oh boy.”

“Is it bad?”

“It’s not, like, sacrificing virgins bad. It’s not Cult of the Caustic Heart bad. But it is still pretty fucking bad. Like this Trent guy says that he is a god incarnated and that his word is law. But his word is a load of horse shit. It’s mostly sexism with a healthy dollop of homophobia and transphobia, along with a couple of extra sides of fear-mongering to go. It’s really fucking gross.”

Zuala gagged. “That sounds like the bullshit back home, yet somehow worse? Gods. Is she marrying into this?”

“Let me do some more digging.” She clicked a few times again, then added, “They’ve got a social media page? Somehow?”

“Oof,” said Zuala as she leaned back in her chair. She heard a few more clicks from the computer on the other end.

“Oh, no, she’s been in this shit. Her wedding preparations are all over their page. But they’re framed to make her look super happy and shit? According to the captions, her, the groom, and the maid of honor were his original members. Wait. Wait. The church was founded almost a decade ago, and she told me she was twenty-five when we talked.”

“He recruited her as a teenager?” Zuala’s eyes went wide.

“Looks like it, unless she’s lying about her age.”

“I didn’t think this could get worse.”

“Me neither. The digger I deep, the more scared I’m getting. I’m this fucking close to calling the police.”

“As much as I want to, Molly said it wasn’t a good idea. They’ve got this girl on nearly 24-hour surveillance. Her fiance and her pastor read her fucking texts and she’s never far from any of her abusers. If we call the cops, they might get tipped off and something really bad could happen to her if they try to investigate it.”

“Fuck! Should we cancel our orders then? Cut off all contact? Give back their money?”

“That might have a similar effect. They might realize we’ve found them out and blame her for it. She might get punished. All we can do is give her an out. Molly said they gave her their number. Hopefully, it wasn’t taken away from her.”

“Yeah. Alright. Thanks for helping me sort through this shit. I’ve had bridezillas and assholes and bad relationships and shit but...never anything close to this. Gods. I hope she can find her way out.”

“Me too, Syl. Me too.”  
~~~~~  
Bren walked through the halls of the Church of the Cerberus Assembly, looking for Wulf and Astrid. They’d told her they would be trying on tuxes, making a big deal about keeping it a surprise from Bren, but it had been over two hours, and Bren knew she had an appointment for the cake tasting soon. If they didn’t leave now, they’d be late.

She went to Wulf’s room and knocked. No answer. The people in the neighboring dorms told her that they hadn’t heard anything. “Have you at least seen him?”

“No,” said one of the neighbors, a nice-looking dwarven man, clean-shaven and friendly.

“Thank you,’ Bren replied, as she turned to go to Astrid’s room. Again, there was no answer, and none of the girls in the surrounding dorms knew where she went either. But then she passed by one of the Matrons, Matron Ashe, a kind elderly woman who had great faith and had helped her through several crises at this point. Bren stopped and asked, “Matron Ashe? Have you seen Astrid and Wulf?”

She nodded, but she looked a bit shaken. “Yes, I have.”

“Where are they? I need to find Wulf so we can go to our next part of the wedding preparations.”

Matron Ashe shook her head. “I can’t say.”

“Why not?” Bren cocked her head.

“He is exercising the will that has been bestowed to him by Ikithon. He told me to keep his activities a secret.”

Bren furrowed her brow. “What activities?”

“I cannot say. I will get in trouble otherwise.”

“Why would you get into trouble for telling me where they are?” Her heart was suddenly in her throat.

“I...I am torn, my child. They are going against the Word, but they told me they have been given the blessing of Ikithon Himself to do as they please.”

With a strange fire inside her that she hadn’t experienced since childhood, Bren took Matron Ashe by the shoulders, looked deeply into her dull brown eyes with her own piercing blue ones, and commanded, with a low, intense voice that filled her with confidence, “Where are they?”

Matron Ashe, surprised by this presence coming from the usually meek Brenda Ermendrud, mumbled, “They’re in the prayer room. Together. Alone. And they were not praying.”

With a sharp intake of breath, Bren dropped her hands, said, “Thank you,” and headed towards the sanctuary, where the prayer room was located.

The sanctuary was a huge room set behind two large wooden doors. Most people couldn’t open and close it without making a loud noise, but Bren was able to slowly, carefully, slip inside. Immediately, she heard the sound of moans and gasps. She had heard this sound herself when she was eighteen after they’d moved to the new church along with the other devotees. She and the other young women were sat down to listen to a married couple having sex on the other side of a wall. Pastor Ikithon said it was to learn what the reward would be for waiting until marriage, but it just made Bren nervous. Those sick feelings were now boiling in her stomach once again. She crept toward the prayer room, careful not to make a sound, careful to avoid where she knew the wooden floor creaked. 

Finally, she was there, right by the door. She had a choice to make. She could sneak back out, never say a word. Marry this man knowing full well he’d cheated on her with her best friend, and that he would likely do it again. Or...she could confront them. And then what? Would she call off the marriage? Reveal all this to the Pastor, to the congregation? She didn’t know what she would do if she confirmed her suspicions with her own eyes. But she knew she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she denied this.

Bren gripped the doorknob and opened the door.

And there, they were, plain as day. Clothes tossed aside, naked as the moment they were brought into this world, and together, fucking like animals.

There was a terrible silence where they all stayed in place, frozen, staring at each other. Bren had expected that she would cry. She did not. She folded her arms, glared at them, and demanded, “I want an explanation. Now.”

Astrid slid off of Wulf, unsure of what was going to happen. Meanwhile, Wulf rose, not caring about his present state. The fire in his eyes easily outweighed the blaze in Bren’s gaze, and she found herself moving towards the doorway. “You don’t get an explanation, you useless bitch. I have been given the right from the Pastor Himself to do as I please.”

Bren tried to remain steady as she stood there, clenching her fists and jaw as she glared into Wulf’s eyes. “I don’t care what the Pastor says. This is wrong.”

Wulf and Astrid shared a look, and immediately Bren froze, realizing what she had said. “You don’t care what the Pastor says? The one who saved you from a family heading toward destruction? The one who has taken care of you all these years? The one who has given you a high rank and all you that you would ever need and want? Trust me, if He hears what you just said, He would throw you out like the worthless scum you are. The only reason He keeps you around at this point is as a vessel for me to use. You’re a piece of equipment with the purpose of serving me and my needs. And, to be completely honest, you could never satisfy me as a proper woman.”

The idea of being a “proper woman” made Bren feel sick. She didn’t want this. She didn’t want to be a woman.

But what other choice did she have?

“Get out,” Wulf growled. “Tell no one what you saw. If a single word gets out about this, I will know it was you who said it, and I will make sure the Pastor will throw you out of here.”

Bren didn’t say anything. She just scuttled out of the room, defeated, head hung low, avoiding eye contact, feeling empty. She thought she could be brave. She was wrong. All she could do was slink down the hall, go to her room, curl up in bed and cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary for anyone who skipped this chapter: Bren is insulted by Astrid in front of a seamstress who is helping with her dress. The seamstress, Sylvette, asks Bren through the Sending spell if she wants Astrid to leave. Bren says no, but Sylvette asks her to leave anyways. Astrid blows up and accuses Bren of flirting with a tiefling from the flower shop (Molly). Sylvette tells her to shut up. Pastor Ikithon then calls Bren and threatens her, making Bren cry. Sylvette offers to call the police, again through the Sending spell, but Bren says no. After Bren leaves with Astrid, Sylvette calls Zuala, saying she is considering calling the police. She tells her what happened, and Zuala realizes that it's happening to Bren. She realizes that Astrid meant Molly when she said Bren was flirting with another tiefling, and then calls Molly to clarify as to what happened while Sylvette looks up Pastor Ikithon. Molly explains what happened and then tells Zuala calling the police would be a bad idea. Zuala calls back Sylvette and they realize that Bren belongs to a cult run by Ikithon and that Bren was probably recruited as a teenager. They decide not to do anything to confront the cult, but instead to be there for Bren in case she needs an out. Later, Bren looks for Astrid and Wulf and finds from an older member of the church, Matron Ashe, that they are having sex in the prayer room. She finds them and confronts them, but is chewed out by Wulf and told not to say anything about it or else she will be thrown out. She leaves and goes to her room to cry.
> 
> Thanks to Nik_Fic to betaing for me! Next chapter will be when Bren leaves.


	3. chapter three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw for a kind of intense scene

As the wedding came closer, Bren couldn’t sleep. Ever since she’d discovered Astrid and Wulf, together, she could hardly get herself to rest without overthinking everything. She couldn’t leave; the Church was set on a mountain, and it would take hours just to walk downhill. She didn’t have anything suitable to wear, no bags or backpacks to carry food or water, and no shoes that wouldn’t make her roll her ankle or give her painful blisters. She could call Molly when everyone was asleep and have them meet her at the church with a car, but they were too far away, and what if they were asleep too? What if someone woke up and saw her sneaking out? What if the Pastor or Wulf found out she had called them? And after the whole thing with Wulf and Astrid happened, Bren was never let out of the Church if at all possible and wasn’t left alone if she was. If she tried to get help, someone would notice. Hell, Astrid would go with her to the bathroom so she couldn’t even try to flag someone there. It was a living nightmare, and Bren couldn’t escape.

Then, the night before the wedding came, and Bren was panicking.

She stayed up all night pacing, trying to be quiet to avoid waking up her neighbors. Her brain was going mad, imagining her marriage with Wulf. At the very least, she'd be expected to be fucked by him, and the idea of that made her want to vomit. She imagined him continuing to cheat on her and shaming her for it. She imagined bearing his children, raising them. She imagined having to serve him and listen to him and obey him for the rest of her life. What had seemed like heaven when she first got engaged had since turned into her own personal hell with no way to escape.

Finally, she’d had enough. Enough being stuck inside her own head. Enough thinking and thinking and thinking with no one else talking back. She needed to talk to someone. Bren put on a cardigan and slipped out her bedroom. She knew the halls of this building like she knew her own mind, and she knew how to avoid all the creaks and groans of the floor on the way to Matron Ashe’s room. Softly, she knocked on the door. After a moment, she heard the shift of someone getting up, and footsteps coming from within. The door slowly opened. Matron Ashe looked exhausted, but she grinned a little when she saw Bren. “Oh. It’s you. Come in, my dear.”

Matron Ashe had a similar room to Bren’s: bare, plain walls, a plain bed with soft sheets, though her bed was much bigger, and a closet with all of her clothes. Matron Ashe sat on the bed and patted the space next to her, letting Bren sit down as well. The Matron asked, in a soft, kind voice, “What is wrong, my child?”

Bren fell apart as much as she could without waking up the neighbors. She sobbed into her hands. All of her fears poured out of her in whispered sobs. The Matron sat there, listening, rubbing her back. Eventually, Bren looked up at her, expecting some kind of sage wisdom, some advice on how to keep her faith and go through with the marriage.

Instead, the Matron took a deep breath and said, “You are not alone. I am having doubts as well.”

“Really?” Bren asked in shock. Matron Ashe was one of the most devoted followers of Ikithon she knew. How could she doubt Him?

“Yes,” Matron Ashe said with a nod. “I have so many questions. How could Ikithon give someone else permission to break His Word, even when He says His Word is absolute? And, if He is a perfectly kind being, how could He be willing to do this when it is obviously hurting a member of His following? Do not think I have not seen you wilting when I know what you saw.”

“Do this mean Ikithon’s Word is not true?” Bren asked. “Does this mean we are all following a liar?”

After a long, dreadful pause, the Matron nodded. “I fear we are.”

“Then what do we do? We are trapped here. Wulf and Astrid and Ikithon will not let me out of their sight. I have a friend I can call, but I do not if they can save me from here.”

“Who is your friend? Is it that tiefling in the flower shop?” Matron Ashe asked.

Bren nodded. “Yes.”

“I have heard Ikithon calling that shop. He was arguing with them about them being at the wedding. They said they have to be at the wedding to set everything up. He does not want them here. He knows they are trying to get you out of here.”

“So they will be at the wedding?”

“Yes, but only until everything is set up. Then they will be sent away and will not be allowed back.”

“Ah.” Bren thought for a moment, then nodded. A plan was forming in her head. “Okay. Thank you, Matron Ashe.”

Matron Ashe quickly reached over and hugged Bren tightly. She was never one for physical affection, so this was surprising, but Bren hugged her back all the same. “I love you, my dear. I hope you find happiness outside of this place.”

“I love you, too, Matron Ashe,” Bren whispered. Tears appeared in her eyes once more, and she quickly wiped them away.

Once the hug was done, Bren got up and slipped out and back down the hallway to her room. Now, she had a plan. Now, she had a way to escape.  
~~~~~  
Bren hadn’t prayed to any deities in a long-ass time, but she knew that Ikithon sure as hell was not a god, and that she was going to need some serious help getting out of here.

At first, she wasn’t sure she was going to pull it off. Astrid was there from the moment she was awoken after maybe an hour of sleep, throughout the whole process of getting dressed and putting on makeup and doing her hair. The whole time she just wanted to jump out of her skin and run, but she stayed. She stayed calm. She was going to find a way out. As soon as Astrid fucking left already--

But then someone came to the bedroom door. Matron Ashe, thank the gods, was there. “Astrid, you are needed,” she said calmly.

“I can’t leave Brenda. Tell whoever it is to wait!” Astrid said crossly.

“It’s the Pastor. He wants to speak with you about the floral arrangements.”

Astrid sat up, and said, “Alright.” She told the makeup artists and hairdressers to keep Brenda from leaving, then followed Matron Ashe out of the room. Brenda breathed. If they needed to talk about floral arrangements, then it meant the florists were here. Which meant Molly could be here. Which meant she could leave.

“Ah, I need to use the restroom. It is a…feminine emergency.” Brenda tried to look embarrassed. For once, she was glad she could have periods.

“Oh, of course,” said one of the hairdressers. “Do you need any help with your dress?”

“No, I should be fine. Thank you.” She grabbed her phone and went to the private bathroom at the end of the hall, the one near the exit. As soon as she was inside, she locked the door and dialed Molly’s number, thanking every deity she knew for her photographic memory.

Molly’s voice came up on the other end. “Hello?” asked Molly, and Bren almost cried.

“It’s Brenda. Are you at the Church?” Bren asked, heart in her throat.

“Yeah, I just finished bringing everything in. Yasha and Zuala are setting everything up. They don’t really want me to be inside right now. Why? Do you need anything?”

“Ja. I need to get out as soon as possible.”

“Okay. Okay, uh...where are you? I’m in the back with the bus. There are a bunch of people setting up out front.” 

“Oh, good! I am towards the back, too. I just need to hurry out and find you. Pull up as close as you can to the building. I don’t know how long it will take before someone finds out I called you. I am going to leave my phone in the bathroom so they cannot track it, ja?”

“Got it. Give me a sec. I’ll see you.” Molly hung up, and Bren clicked off her phone, setting it down on the sink. Then she kicked off her heels and slowly opened the door. No one was there. Almost everyone must’ve been in the big event hall or in the sanctuary, setting everything up. Bren snuck down the hall and out the door. The gravel outside was rough against her stocking feet, but she did not really care. And there was a huge bus coming, painted with all sorts of floral designs and the words “Stormlord Bouquet Transport” on the side. But it was still quite a ways off. Bren started to run towards the vehicle. 

Then she heard the sounds of people crying out towards her. She did the stupid thing and turned towards the voices. It was Wulf, talking with some of the other men. It didn’t take long for them to put two and two together and figure out what she was doing, and they started running towards her, and Wulf was damn fast. In between the tight and heavy wedding dress and the lack of shoes, Bren couldn’t hurry fast enough. A scream ripped through her, aimed towards the bus. She murmured prayers to anyone who could possibly hear, please, please, don’t let him come near me.

Molly stopped the bus and opened the door. Just as Bren stepped in, she felt arms tightly grab her around her waist. Molly just barely grabbed her hand in time before Wulf wrenched her away, but Molly wasn’t strong enough, and neither was Bren, and their connection was quickly coming apart. Molly then looked down at Wulf, locked eyes with him, and, using what she guessed was Vicious Mockery, they hissed something in Infernal, making Wulf hiss in pain and lose his grip just enough for Molly to pull Bren out of his arms and into the bus. Then they kicked Wulf in the chest and knocked him down long enough for them to close the door and get buckled back in, driving the bus out of there as fast as they could go. “Get buckled in, Brenda, it’s gonna be a doozy getting out of here.”

Bren got into a seat and held on for dear life. The bus looked like a refurbished school bus with coolers for flowers and some seats, plus a section in the back with a mattress and some other decorations. Bren could see through the windows the crowd of people chasing after the bus, screaming at them. Her heart was still pounding, and she did not know whether she wanted to laugh with joy or sob. Eventually, Ikithon came out, hurrying towards his car, and her fear response set back in. “Oh fuck, they are going to chase after us!”

“Fuck!” Molly passed their phone to Bren. “Call 911. Now.”

“Are you sure? We’re hours from the nearest town!”

“At the very least, someone will know shit’s going down.” Molly kept driving, slamming on the gas as hard as they could, peeling out of the parking lot, past the crowds, and down the winding mountain road.

“Okay.” Bren fumbled with the phone, pressing the emergency call button on the lock screen and dialing 911, putting the call on speakerphone so Molly could hear as well. An operator came on the line. “Hallo, this is Brenda Ermendrud. I am leaving the Cerberus Assembly Church.” She provided an address. “I was getting married and I was forced to do it and I am leaving now and the person who is helping me has two friends in the church building and we are being chased by cars.”

“They brought their own car, they’re leaving now, too!” Molly exclaimed. 

“Are you sure? Will they be alright?” Bren’s voice was strained and starting to get clogged with tears.

“Trust me, Yasha can handle herself, and Zuala is tougher than she looks. Plus, we kind of came prepared.” Molly seemed hesitant.

“What do you mean?” Bren asked, suddenly very concerned.

“Well, let’s just say if anyone messes with those two, they’re going to the hospital. Yash and Zu both brought weapons.” The bus bumped around as they took a tight turn. “But they won’t fight anyone unless they absolutely have to. Right now, they’re focusing on getting out.”

The operator told them to stay on the line, help was on the way. Meanwhile, the other cars were quickly approaching. Say what you will about Ikithon’s shitty sedan, but the thing was faster than a huge bus. Meanwhile, Bren’s panic was worsening. She couldn’t breathe. The operator was trying to get her to calm down, asking her, “Ma’am? Ma’am, it’s going to be okay, please just breathe for me, the police are on the way--”

“Brenda, it’s okay,” said Molly, taking a moment when the road was straight to flash her a reassuring look. They took the phone back and started giving a better explanation of what was going on, every so often asking questions of Brenda. Brenda tried to answer as best she could but she was starting to sob. Everything was too tight, too close, too much. Hoping for some sort of escape, she pulled at her veil. It was pinned in her hair like hell, and it hurt to pull out, but eventually, she was able to take it off. Then she kicked off the stockings, removed the garter, flung it all aside. Then her fingers fumbled with the hooks on the back of her dress. She wasn’t dextrous enough to reach all of them, and she just wanted out, now.

Molly looked back at her oddly. “What are you doing?” they asked.

“I want to get out of this fucking dress,” Bren said. It was oddly soothing to finally be able to curse without feeling like someone would report her for it.

“Brenda,” Molly said, about to say something else before stopping. Then they said, “Here. I assume you don’t intend on keeping that.” They took out a folding knife from their bag and handed it to her. “Be careful, please. If you want to go in the back, that’s fine. I have spare clothes in there that should fit.”

“Thank you,” said Bren. She moved to the back and hid on the floor from the windows, then unfolded the knife. The metal of the blade was rainbow-colored. She carefully cut at the fabric of the dress, trying to avoid slicing her own skin, then finally came to a point where she could rip the lace of the dress’s top apart. After folding the knife shut and setting it aside, she pulled the torn dress down past her hips and let out a breath of relief. The Bren looked around and found a baggy t-shirt with a purple, blue, and pink design on it. She took off her bra then put on the shirt, immediately feeling like she could breathe again. “Fuck,” she murmured to herself.

“You alright back there?” Molly asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” said Bren. She took off the garter belt and stockings and tossed them aside as well. She looked for pants, but could only find jeans, and she didn’t know whether they’d fit. “Do you have any pants other than jeans?” she asked.

“I got an old pair of Yasha’s basketball shorts around somewhere. They’re clean, but you’ll have to tighten them.”

Bren dug around and found them. They were black and white and a bit old, but she was able to put them on and tighten them easily enough, though they were baggy as hell. When Bren stood and looked down at herself, she was overwhelmed by the feeling of...she didn’t know what this was. Validation? Joy? Excitement? For the first time in years, she was wearing something other than skirts and dresses, something that she had been missing for so long but had forgotten.

The bus shifted hard, and Bren almost toppled over. “You okay?” Molly asked, trying to see past the curtains.

“I’m okay,” Bren said. She turned around. Ikithon was almost tailgating the bus, and now Bren could see that Wulf and Astrid were in the car with him. They saw her and started yelling, though Bren couldn’t hear them. She stood there, frozen in fear, unsure of what to do.

And then Ikithon pressed down the gas, and the car slammed into the bus’s bumper. Molly yelled, asked Bren if she was okay as she nearly lost her balance. Bren dragged herself up as Ikithon slowed down a little. He clearly intended to slam against the bus again. Something in Bren’s body changed, and she opened the window and cast a spell she had almost forgotten.

Fire Bolt. Straight to the hood of the car.

It dented the metal, cracked the windshield. It slowed them down. And it felt damn good to perform magic again. She smiled and laughed, feeling victorious, feeling that surge of power return to her again. She yelled in Zemnian, “Fuck off or I’m going to do that again!”

Molly yelled back at her, “What the hell are you doing?”

“Something I should’ve done a long time ago,” Bren cried out before blasting another one. She shattered the glass this time, bent the hood hard, and the car stopped dead in its tracks, causing the one directly behind it to slam into the bumper. Bren cackled and laughed, and then realized what she had done. “Shit.” She scrambled to the front of the bus. “I managed to stop the other cars, but they’re blocking the road. Do you think your friends will be able to make it through?”

“Trust me, they’ll be fine.” Molly urged her closer and muttered, low enough that the 911 operator wouldn’t be able to hear it, “They aren’t exactly the safest of drivers. I doubt any of the churchgoers there would like to be flattened.”

Bren nodded, breathing a slight sigh of relief. “Okay.” She sat down and buckled up.

The drive down the rest of the way was perfectly fine. Eventually, Bren could see another painted car following them, this one a large van rather than an actual bus. Okay. Okay. This was going to be okay.

A while passed, and they eventually met the cops. Everyone explained everything, including Bren, and the cops offered to take Bren to the station. Bren froze. On the one hand, cops made her nervous. They were not to be trusted. But then again, Molly was not to be trusted either. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

So she agreed. Some of the police officers went up the mountain while others escorted the two vehicles to the police station. Most of the rest of the day after the long drive was a lot of talking to people. One of the police officers, a very nice person named Bryce Felid, brought them all lunch. Bryce apparently knew the rest of them and was very polite with Bren. They got her alone in a small interviewing room and Bren just poured out her guts. How she was the child of poor farmers in the Zemni Fields, and so were Astrid and Wulf. How the three of them got hooked into the Church because Ikithon was charismatic and charming and gave them gifts and attention and praise. How as soon as they were eighteen, Ikithon plucked them up and out of school and took them far away from their homes and up into an isolated building with a bunch of his followers. How they were brainwashed, isolated, lied to. And how Bren realized everything was wrong. How she met Yasha and Zuala and Molly, how they got her out, the chase down the mountain. She didn’t know exactly when she started crying, but by the end of it, she was a weeping mess. Bryce offered them a calming smile. “It’s alright. You’re going to be okay. I know Molly and Yasha and Zuala. I know what kind of people they are, and what their friends are like. And while sometimes they get into trouble,” they cracked a small smile, “they’re ultimately good people. You’re going to be okay.”

Bren nodded. “Okay.”

They got everything down in writing, and let everyone go home. By the end of everything, it was late, and Bren was starving again. Molly, Yasha, and Zuala all shared glances. “Where do you wanna go?” Molly asked. “I can sleep on the couch while you take the bed.”

“Yeah,” said Zuala. “We don’t have a spare room or anything, but we have an air mattress?”

“I do not care. Whatever’s easier.” Bren shrugged, crossing her arms, curling up into herself a little.

“I’ll take her to my place,” Molly said. They patted her back. “I got some food we can eat at home. And we can get you some proper clothes in the morning, okay?”

“Okay.” Bren nodded and followed Molly back to the bus. They drove back to the flower shop first, then Molly grabbed their stuff and took them to a very shitty green car, worse than Ikithon’s somehow. It was covered in bumper stickers and the side mirror on the passenger side was hanging out with a shit ton of duct tape and a prayer.

Molly slapped the hood of the car with a look of odd pride. “This is Kylre. He’s a little shit, but I’ve somehow managed to survive driving it for two years. Hop on in.”

Bren obeyed, getting in the passenger side. The inside smelled like patchouli, and there was a mirror crescent moon dangling from the rearview mirror. The back seat had a bunch of art supplies haphazardly thrown in the back, along with a white uniform shirt, black pants, and a green apron. 

“Sorry that it’s a mess,” Molly muttered as they settled in, buckling up and adjusting their mirrors. Bren buckled up as well, feeling a bit odd in the car. She hadn’t been in a stranger’s personal vehicle in years.

“It is fine. I have seen worse.” It was a lie, but Bren was too tired and nervous to try to be honest. She just wanted to eat and sleep for a thousand years.

The drive to Molly’s apartment was maybe five minutes. They lived in a dilapidated building with flaking paint and creaky stairs. Molly led Bren upstairs to their apartment. It was pretty small and outdated but covered in unique and colorful decor. Tapestries, band posters, stacks of movies, magnets all over the fridge, blanket and pillows covering the couch. It was gaudy and blinding. Bren hadn’t seen anything like it. But Molly just traipsed on in and dropped their bag on the kitchen. “Have a seat on the couch. I’ll make you something to eat.”

“Where’s the bathroom?” Bren asked.

“Down that little hall behind the couch?” Molly pointed to a doorway that led into a bedroom and bathroom.

“Thank you.” Bren went into the little bathroom and shut the door. For the first time since that morning, she got a good look at herself in the mirror. And holy fuck, she looked awful. Her hair had been hairsprayed to hell, and it was falling apart in these stuck-together locks with all the pins and curls and shit only half-staying in. Plus her makeup was smudged and running and her boobs were basically out and suddenly this sick, terrible feeling hit her like a brick wall. Bren wanted to be sick. She wanted to hide. She looked weird and disgusting and wrong. The stress of the day plus the sudden emotions coming from looking at herself made her start to sob again.

Apparently, she was loud enough for Molly to hear her. A soft knock came from the door. Molly’s voice said, “Hey, is everything alright?”

Bren might’ve just said everything was fine and sent them away. But everything was not fine, and she did not want them to leave her. So she opened the door and grabbed Molly in a big, tight hug. Molly was a little bit shorter than them at full height, so they had to be a bit careful with the horns, but they easily melted into a warm embrace.

“You okay?” Molly asked. 

“I am sorry, I just feel awful. I look like shit and I saw myself in the mirror and--”

“Oh, shit, of course! Here, let me get some makeup wipes…” Molly sat Bren on the toilet and grabbed some makeup remover wipes from the counter. They bent down before her and gently cleaned up all her makeup until her face was bare. When she opened her eyes, Molly was smiling, purple cheeks turning a bit fuschia. Then they looked away and tossed the wipe in the trash. “There. Much better.” After taking a deep breath, they said, “Now. What do you want to do about your hair? Do you want me to take everything out and you can take a shower?”

On the one hand, Bren had always had long hair. She was raised to be proud of it. But at the same time...seeing herself with long hair always made her feel wrong. She hated it. Bren shook her head and said, “Cut it,” in a very quiet voice.

“Hm?” Molly asked.

“I want you to cut it. Just chop it all off. I don’t want it anymore. Please.”

“Okay. I’m not a professional. We can go to a hairdresser’s tomorrow, or a barber. Get it cleaned up. Sound good?”

“I do not care. I just want this hair off of me.” Their tears were starting to return.

“Don’t cry, don’t cry. It’s okay.” Molly took her hand and held it for a moment. “Let me get the scissors. You can sit on the edge of the tub, alright? Then I can get behind you.”

“Ja,” said Bren. She got on the edge of the bathtub, and Molly wrapped a soft, clean towel around her neck. It was blue with peacock accents, like Molly’s tattoos. Even their towels were bold. 

Molly left to get the scissors, then came back with them and a fresh set of clothes. “These are for you. They’re technically pajamas. I think they’ll fit. You can take a shower right after this to wash the hair off and then you’ll have clean clothes. Sound good?”

Bren nodded. “Ja, sounds good.”

“Alright.” Molly turned her around so they were facing the shower and began removing pins. As soon as everything was out, they lifted a lock of hair. “How short do you want it?”

“Not like, all gone, but like, mostly gone.”

“Very short then?”

“Please.”

“Got it.” Molly took the hair and, with a couple of snips, chopped it off. The sound was a bit terrifying, but Bren calmed herself down. She wanted this. She wanted it all off.

Molly went through each lock, chopping everything off. It took a little while, but eventually, it was all gone. Bren’s head felt almost buoyant now, and she could finally breathe. “Alright, all done, Brenda.” Molly took off the towel and dusted off her shoulders a little, then stepped aside so she could see herself in the mirror. 

When she did, she looked...better. She felt better. The cut was jagged and messy, and it showed off how girly and weird her face looked, but it felt...good. It brought a smile to her face. She ran her fingers over it. It was still stiff in places from the hair spray, but for the first time in a long time, it didn’t entirely feel like it belonged on someone else.

“You feel better?” Molly said, smiling at Bren with an odd fondness.

“Ja,” said Bren, looking back at them. “I do.”

They stood there for a moment, just sharing the feeling. Then Molly looked down to the floor and said, “I should probably head out of here. You need a shower, and I need to make dinner. You good, Brenda?”

Bren nodded as Molly headed out. She hesitated then said to Molly, “Hey.” Molly stopped and turned to face her. “Can you call me Bren? Please?”

“Okay. Bren?”

“Just Bren.”

Molly nodded. “Alright. Bren. I like it.” They turned and walked back to the kitchen. Bren watched them before slowly closing the bathroom door, a small smile still on her face.  
~~~~~  
Bren came out of the bathroom, squeaky clean and wearing new clothes, feeling like a new damn person. She was exhausted.

Molly smiled when she came in, wide and happy. “Hello there. Feeling better?”

“Hot shower does wonders.” Part of her was...oddly happy? Molly only had masculine-branded shampoos and body washes, so she smelled really good. It picked up her mood a little, but she was still tired.

“I made ramen,” Molly said, pushing over a bowl as they sat at the counter. “I just really have that and eggs so…”

Bren poked at it with her chopsticks. She hadn’t had this stuff since high school. “Isn’t this really bad for you?”

“Well...yes. But it’s also all I can afford. And I used actual spices instead of that MSG crap, so you should be okay.” 

With a shrug, Bren took a bunch of noodles and shoved it into her mouth, chewed, swallowed. Then her eyes went wide. “Holy shit.”

“What?”

“I forgot how good food is.” She immediately began eating more. It was warm and mildly spicy and perfectly salty but also the eggs were fluffy and everything was wonderful and Bren could eat a dozen bowls in a minute if she tried hard enough.

“Oh, honey. You poor soul.” Molly shook their head. “If my shitty ass ramen is this good, that cult was truly torture.”

“Ja, it was. None of the women who cooked knew how to season for shit.” Bren shrugged. “I do not think I will miss that place.”

Molly nodded. “I hope you don’t. You deserve better than those bitches anyways.”

Bren laughed. It had been a while since she’d truly laughed. “Thank you.”

“Of course! You deserve it.”

“No, really.” Bren took Molly’s hand and squeezed. It was warm, only slightly rough, and smaller than hers, but holding it felt...really good. Oddly perfect. “Thank you so much for risking getting in trouble to help me get out.”

Molly’s cheeks turned magenta, and Bren assumed they weren’t used to being praised. “Of course,” they stammered, eyes darting and nervous. “I just...I couldn’t leave you there, you know? You’re a friend. I’d hate to leave a friend in a hellhole like that.”

Bren nodded, then blushed herself. Molly was...beautiful in the low, yellowish light of the kitchen. Molly was beautiful this whole time, but Bren hadn’t allowed herself to see it yet. She just sort of...forgot what she was doing and stared at them, holding their hand. She got this strange urge in her chest to lean forward and kiss Molly, to hold them and be with them and--

Oh.

This was what actually having a crush was like.

They looked away from each other and pulled apart, a bit embarrassed, returning to their food in silence.


	4. chapter four

Bren was going to go straight to bed after dinner. She was already so tired and had been through so much. While Molly finished cleaning, Bren borrowed a spare toothbrush and toothpaste and started getting ready to sleep. About halfway through, muffled by a toothbrush, Molly could hear Bren say, “Oh, fuck.”

“What’s wrong?” Molly asked, hands still wet with dish water.

“I’m wearing contacts. I left my glasses at the church.” Bren spit into the sink and rinsed out her mouth. “Fuck.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” said Molly, wiping their hands off their jeans and patting them on the shoulder. “I got some eye contact solution and some containers from when Beau used to live here, okay? Let me get those for you.”

“Okay. What about the glasses?”

“First thing on the to do list tomorrow is appointments. Optometrist, therapist, and probably a general doctor to get you checked up. Maybe a OB/GYN if you want.”

“Ja, ja.” Bren nodded, wringing her hands as she breathed. 

Molly got everything she needed from the little closet in the hallway and brought it out for Bren to use. “You think you’ll be okay?”

“Uh huh. Thank you.” Bren went about taking out her contacts and Molly finished drying and putting everything away. Molly finished rather quickly and walked to the bathroom to watch Bren. She was...really striking without long hair. You could see the angles of her face properly, the jut of her chin, the slope of her nose, the cut of her cheekbones. It was all rather lovely. Molly leaned on the door jamb of the hallway, sighing. They were glad to see her looking happier. Looking more at peace with herself.

The crush hit Molly like a punch to the gut. Molly barely had time to think much beyond oh no, oh please no, before Bren looked up at Molly and said, “Ja? You need something?”

They managed to stammer out a, “Oh, nothing, just, uh...spacing out. I should probably clean my room real quick.”

“Alright.” Bren went into the living while Molly cleaned up the dirty laundry and the cluttered dressers, trying to sort their thoughts. A crush on someone who you literally just rescued from a cult wedding was the idea to end all terrible ideas. You’re just desperate for someone to bang who might want to date you, they told themselves. You want to be with someone who isn’t gonna ditch you in the morning or just consider you a friend. You’re just desperate. That’s it.

As soon as they were done, they changed into pajamas and went back into the living room, a little less wound up and no longer falling into crush-land for the moment. “I’m all done. You can take the bed. I’ll take the couch.”

Bren shook her head. “What are you talking about?”

“I only have one bed. You’re the one who’s been through the wringer today. You take it.”

“Well, I don’t want to kick you out of your bed.” Bren stood, folding her arms a bit awkwardly.

“And I don’t want you to sleep on the couch. In you go.” Molly moved towards the couch.

“Can we not just share?” Bren asked, blocking the way.

Molly paused. Outside of their crush-brain, yes, this was a sound idea. Inside of it, alarm bells were ringing. Too soon, too soon, too soon. But some stupid, stupid part of them managed a nod. “Yeah, yeah that could work, if you don’t mind.”

“Nein, I will be alright.” Bren shrugged and followed Molly into the bedroom. It was small, but nice, with a decent sized bed, big enough for two to share, but not enough that they wouldn’t be completely avoiding each other. Molly got under the covers, and Bren followed suit from the other side, sighing. Molly clicked the lamp on the bedside table off, and sighed as they tried to get some sleep.

* * *

Sleep evaded Bren. She was exhausted, yes, but her brain was wide awake and nervous, returning to panic mode now that all the distractions were gone. She imagined the Cerberus Assembly knocking down the door, coming in, dragging her away. She imagined them saddling her up with a bad husband, since that was what happened to women who disobeyed. She imagined the rest of her life, rotting away in the Church’s huge building, doing all the work that was expected of her in quiet shame, shunned and ashamed.

Behind her, Molly shifted. They had been doing that for a while. She guessed they were vainly trying to find a good position or something. Or maybe they had their own anxieties plaguing them. 

Eventually, Bren rolled over a little and asked, “You awake?”

Molly groaned. “Maybe.”

“I cannot sleep either.” Bren shifted to face them. It was dark, but light came in from the window behind her, turning the highlights of Molly’s face an orangey color. It was...fuck, it was beautiful. She brushed a rogue curl out of their eyes, then pulled back like she’d been burned. They were warm, inhumanly so, like a burning fever. She’d heard it was a tiefling thing, but it was strange to actually feel.

“Hey. It’s okay.” Molly took her hand tentatively, then held it. Bren was very glad it was too dark for them to see her blush, but then remembered tieflings could see in the dark. Oh dear. But if Molly noticed, they didn’t say anything. They just said, “Do you want to talk about what happened? Will that help?”

Bren looked down at their hands. “What do you want to know?”

“What I want to know doesn’t really matter. What do you want to talk about?”

“There is...a lot to talk about.”

“Okay.” Molly shifted a little, never letting go. “What about your parents? Are you willing to talk about them? Were they in the cult?”

“No,” Bren said, voice low and regretful. “They thought the whole thing was a terrible idea. We got into a lot of fights about it. But I was a dumb teenager and I thought I knew everything.” She sighed. “I left them. I was the last to turn eighteen, and as soon as that happened we packed our bags and left. Middle of the night. I never even said goodbye.” Tears stung her eyes, as she wiped them away. “I do not know if I will ever see them again. I do not know if they will take me back.”

“I’d think they would. If they really cared about you and loved you, they’d want you back. Where did you live?”

“Zemni Fields. Blumenthal. Tiny, tiny town. Conservative. Kind of place where this bullshit can bloom, but not really where it can stay.”

“Do you miss it?”

Bren shook her head. “Not really. I never really belonged there. I guess that is how he sunk his claws into me.”

“Hm.” Molly looked down. At least, that’s what Bren thought. It was hard to tell when your eyes were just red sclera. But then they shifted again and looked up at Bren. “Did you ever really like that Wulf guy?”

“Ja, at some point in high school. I had a crush on him.” She sighed. Then she looked up at Molly. “I assume you will not judge me for saying this?”

“Depends.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Bren whispered, “I had a crush on Astrid, too.”

“Oh?” Molly’s eyebrows went up. “I knew you had queer vibes.”

Bren nodded. “I never dared to tell her. Or anyone for that matter. I was so scared of being judged and hated and shunned. Then Ikithon came along and I had to force that down.”

“And then they turned into the fuckwads they are now?”

“Unfortunately, ja. They were very different before Ikithon.” Bren sighed sadly, missing those short years.

“But you weren’t in love when you were getting married?”

“I was in love with what was expected of me. I thought marrying him was my ultimate destiny. Then I realized...I did not want it to be.”

“How so?”

“Well...talking about the stuff we were expected to do always made me uncomfortable, but I did not question it. Then...a few weeks before the wedding, I found out that Wulf was cheating on me.”

“What?” Molly’s eyebrows shot straight up.

“With Astrid?”

“Fucking hell,” Molly said. “Damn.”

“Ja.” Bren shrugged. “I would have left eventually but...that made me realize that I had to leave before the wedding. I could not knit my soul to him.”

“Yeah, no. I wouldn’t either.” Molly sighed. “Though...I’ve been in rough relationships before. I understand.”

Bren furrowed her brow. “How so? If you do not mind my asking.”

Molly sighed. “Long story short, abusive asshole fuckwad. Tried to turn me into something I wasn’t. Eventually I realized he wasn’t shit and kicked his ass to the curb. Every so often I find a bit of his stuff and I always make sure I burn that shit outside. Keep those bad vibes out of my nice, clean apartment.”

“Fair. I am sorry for bringing more bad feelings.”

“No!” Molly nudged Bren. “You bring good vibes. I like you.”

“Really? You like me?” Bren smiled.

“Yes, of course! You threw a fucking fireball at your abuser’s car. How could I not?”

“Fire Bolt,” Bren gently corrected.

“Whatever. You fought them. You ran away. You left an awful, shitty place. That takes guts.” Molly’s smile was sweet and wonderful and oh so gorgeous. Bren felt another blush come on.

“I am not that brave,” she said sadly.

With a gentle touch, Molly lifted Bren’s chin with their free hand. “You are very brave. Trust me.”

Bren smiled for a moment, then just...looked at Molly. They had a beauty like nothing they’d seen. The cult was dull and plain and lifeless, and so was Blumenthal, compared to them. They were so colorful they practically glowed in the dark.

She didn’t notice the pull towards them until their lips met. It was like gravity; irresistible, impossible to fight. Their lips were soft and warm, their breath sweet. It had been so long since Bren had kissed someone -- the cult mandated no touching of any romantic nature beyond hand holding in public, and nothing in private between unmarried couples. But this felt as natural as breathing, as a heartbeat. Her hands pulled away from Molly’s just so she could cup their cheeks. Their hands moved to her waist as they pulled her closer. It felt...really nice.

After a moment, Molly said, “Hey,” pulling away suddenly. “You sure you’re okay with this? You’ve been through a shit ton today. Now might not be the time.”

“I am fine, Molly,” Bren said softly. “But if you do not want to kiss me, that is fine.” It was hard to hide her disappointment.

“I mean…” they sighed. “It’s not like I don’t want to kiss you. But I’m afraid we’re moving too fast. I don’t want to hurt you, is all.”

Bren nodded. “Okay. Sorry I kissed you without asking. Good night.” She turned over, ashamed and feeling a bit hurt and unwanted. She knew it was stupid, Molly was right. But with the fresh wounds from Wulf, being told no again by someone who had been so kind stung like hell.

Behind Bren, Molly sighed. “I just don’t want to hurt you.”

“I know. You are not wrong, Molly. It just hurts, still. I just wanted to be...desired, I suppose.” Bren shrugged. “It is fine. No big deal. We can talk about it tomorrow.”

“Okay. Good night.” Molly sighed, pulling away from Bren.

“Good night,” said Bren.

**Author's Note:**

> Betaed by the lovely Tea__Bee. Thanks fam!


End file.
